


Tell Me You Didn't Just Do That

by greyish



Series: crime doesn't pay (but sometimes it pays a lot) [1]
Category: DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry has ADHD probably, Brief Depictions of Violence, M/M, Multi, Protect Cailtin at all costs I love her, barry thinks his family don't really love him but he's WRONG, coldflashwave is my life, depressed character, he definetly has PTSD, minor angst with an aggressively happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-17 05:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14826548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyish/pseuds/greyish
Summary: Barry is a little frustrated at this point. You go to all this effort to wrap yourself up all nice and neatly for the guys you robbed - least he could do for them, really - and they don't even kill you about it. What a waste of emotional fortitude.He makes eye contact with Snart and forces his voice to be steady."Dildos." He says. "1.5 million dollars worth of dildos. I have a couple trucks worth near the peer if you want to grab a couple."Barry is expecting Rory's boot to come thudding into his stomach for being - understandably! - a little shit, but instead Snart maintains eye contact, face still impassive."Great." He says, "take me there.""What?""Take me to the dildos, Parker. If that is your real name.".....OR Barry makes some bad decisions that turn out pretty well!





	1. Chapter 1

Barry never intended to be a criminal. Honestly, he didn't. Caitlin would do her worried-pinch face and shake his head at him, Iris would smack him all the way over Central City, and Joe ... Barry doesn't want to think about how Joe would feel.

 

Because the long and short of it is Joe's health care apparently does not cover extensive, life-saving cancer treatment and Barry would rather lose the respect - even love - of his entire family than watch Joe die slowly as he and Iris argue over how much money she's spending on his treatments.

 

"I'm doomed, chickpea," he'd said to her tiredly, "I'm sorry but I can't leave you in millions of dollars of debt."

 

"I can't just let you die without trying to do something!" Iris had countered through her sobs. At that point, Barry knew he had to do something. Something drastic.

 

"You may not approve of what I'm doing," he'd told Cisco, the only shenanigan-loving friend he had left in Central City, "but I've got to do it. Make me a new identity."

 

Cisco had done it. And Barry had taken that identity and done some pretty interesting stuff with it. Interesting, like worm his way into the most notorious crew in Central and then start planning to rob them.

 

"What's your story, kid?" Rory had asked him casually one night, after Barry made the cash drop off, "what drove your pretty face to crime?"

 

Barry shrugs, grins, and says "too thick for college."

 

Rory raised an eyebrow at him, because despite Barry's ADHD being enough to get him the generous label of 'mostly-useless spazz', Rory and Snart don't seem to be buying it. They're paying him attention, and it makes his neck prickle uncomfortably. He knows his plan is solid, but these paranoid bastards might ruin it all anyway.

 

He's known five months into working for them that he won't be sneaking away to Gotham, and then as far away as the wind takes him, once he's stolen their stash. That idle plan slips away like fairy dust and he resigns himself to the inevitable.

 

The day he chooses to die is a pleasant one. He's glad for that. He brings Joe coffee in the hospital and takes him around the pathetically sparse outdoor area in a wheelchair, comfortably listening to Joe talk about Iris, the terrible hospital coffee, and his favourite nurses who play cards with him on their breaks.

 

"I'm proud of you." Joe says quietly, a little out of nowhere.

 

Barry almost falls over. Joe laughs.

 

"You and Iris will take really good care of each other, I know that. It's been a pleasure, raising you both. Getting to see you grow up, getting to know the adults you both became. I'm so proud of you."

 

Barry grips the handles of the wheelchair and swallows back tears.

 

"You don't have to say anything," Joe says soothingly. The same way he used to say those words when Barry had a panic attack or nightmares as a kid. Joe would bring him water and rub the small of his back until he calmed down. Then they'd rug up under blankets on the couch and Joe would read to him and not mind when he wriggled or got distracted or started asking a million questions about the books.

 

His favourite where the Rescuers. He and Iris would play at being Miss Bianca and Bernard saving prisoners in the backyard.

 

Joe really only has himself to blame for both his children growing up to be prison abolitionists.

 

"Thank you," he says to Joe eventually, "for everything."

 

Joe squeezes his hand. They're both saying goodbye, Barry realises, but it's Barry who'll be leaving.

 

He smiles at Iris, coming towards them waving a heavy looking document in her hands.

 

"Looks like someone has good news," Joe says wryly.

 

The sun is bright and warm, and there's a gentle breeze kicking around that takes that little bit of edge off the heat. It's Barry's favourite weather.

 

"A bunch of people just donated thousands to our Kickstarter, Dad," she's crying and she launches herself at them both with barely restrained abandon. "We have enough for your treatment."

 

Joe stares at her. Barry looks at the ground.

 

" _Dad_ ," she repeats, flinging her arms around him, "you're not going to die. We have the money for treatment. We have more than we need. I can take time off work to take care of you. Dad, you're going to be okay."

 

Joe's laugh is confused, relieved, and euphoric all at once. He plants big smacking kisses on both of their foreheads.  He cries a little, but who could blame him? He keeps hugging them, repeating Iris's words back at her over and over. _We have enough. I'm going to live._

 

They have celebratory take out dinner in the hospital canteen. Barry knows he should be gone already, but he wants so badly to stay. He wants to wrap himself up in this moment, where everything is good.

 

Not bad, he thinks, for a last day.

 

He leaves Iris curled up next to her father on the bed, where they had fallen asleep watching cartoons. He has to remind himself that he's not her real brother, or Joe's real son, no matter what they might say. They couldn't live without each other. They could live without him.

 

Rory's hands are hot against his throat, _again_. Barry feels the last of his breath leave him, and then he's back on the concrete floor gasping. This really has to stop. He needs them to hurry up and kill him because he covered his tracks, okay, and the last thing that links him to Cisco, and Iris and Joe is his own stupid mouth. They keep bringing him food and refusing to engage in more than _extremely mild torture_ \- as if he's not strong enough to handle serious torture without straight-up dying! It's been three days. Barry would have liked his last day to have been the one with Iris and Joe. He'd even lain a false trail to make them think he dropped most of the money gambling and left the rest in a storage box for them to recover. But apparently these guys are too good for Barry's awesome contingency plans because instead of killing him and cutting their loses, they _keep asking him where the rest of the money is._

 

He goes for a different tactic.

 

"Hey, you know it's going to get pretty bad in here for you. Just saying. You might want to starve me now while you have the chance."

 

Rory snorts.

  
"That is the least subtle attempt to get us to kill you that you could have possibly gone for."

 

"Who says I'm yearning for death?!" Barry asks indignantly, "I could be planning a cunning escape!"

 

"You came to _us."_ Rory says, "You knew we'd know it was you. You didn't even try to look surprised."

 

This is a bit of a blow to Barry's confidence as an actor, because he actually had been trying pretty hard.

 

"If you don't kill me now, I'm going to annoy you to death. I hope you realise that."

 

Barry is getting a little frustrated at this point. You go to all this effort to wrap yourself up all nice and neatly for the guys you robbed - least he could do for them, really - and they don't even kill you about it. What a waste of emotional fortitude.

 

"Where's the money," Snart says, his face impassively cold. "What did you do with it?"

 

Barry makes eye contact with him and forces his voice to be steady.

 

"Dildos." He says. "1.5 million dollars worth of dildos. I have a couple trucks worth near the peer if you want to grab a couple."

 

He's expecting Rory's boot to come thudding into his stomach for being - understandably! - a little shit, but instead Snart maintains eye contact, face still impassive.

 

"Great." He says, "take me there."

 

"What?"

 

"Take me to the dildos, Parker. If that is your real name."

 

"I ... I seem to have forgotten the address," Barry replies, glancing up at Rory, "possibly from being asphyxiated. You understand."

 

Snart and Rory do that weird silent communication thing with their eyebrows and leave. Barry sighs. He prays desperately hard to the god of terrible-decision makers that Iris and Joe somehow escape whatever god-awful net he just pulled down around them.

 He closes his eyes and remembers them as he last saw them - Iris curled up at her fathers side with his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. He sighs, and blinks back tears.

 _They're fine,_ he tells himself fiercely, _they're save, I covered my tracks, they're probably celebrating the beginning of Joe's recovery right now._

He lets the thought of Iris and Joe laughing over dinner with Cisco and Caitlin lull him to sleep. They were safe, that was all that mattered.

 


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes up to Rory waving a familiar box in his face. He groans, blinks, then sits up my.

 

“My meds!” He says excitedly, and then, “oh… my meds.”

 

It’s got his name, right there on the prescription label. Fuck.

 

"Barry Allen, huh?" Rory says, handing him the box with a glass of water. He looks almost apologetic. If it were possible to look apologetic and like a murderous bear at the same time.

 

"My cousin." Barry says, "always leaves his crap in my car."

 

He hopes they found it in his car. Cisco made him a pretty realistic license and registration for his fake identity.

 

"Of course, Snart says smoothly. "That's why we found photos of him at CCU's open day webpage. Quite a family resemblance."

 

"So much for 'too dense for college'" Rory adds with a snort, "lining up to do your PhD at your age? You're some kind of kid-genius."

 

"But then that seems pretty standard for your family, what with your foster-sister being top of her class and all," Snart continues.

 

They're circling him. Snarts face is pure calm, and Rory looks like he's two seconds away from lunging.

 

"You looked up my sister's grades??" Barry blurts out. His heart is pounding like mad, but he takes a deep breath and slows it down. Apparently PTSD and rampant anxiety had prepared him for something.

 

"Look," he says, "I can get you the money back. Plus interest. You must know that or you'd have the money back in your pockets and me in a shallow grave already."

 

"Who says the money isn't already back in our pockets?" Snart asks him mildly.

 

Barry can't say, but he's really, really hoping it isn't. He hasn't seen anyone in this organisation engage in hacking bank accounts, but he doesn't know for sure than none of them can.

 

Snart seems to take a bizarre form of pity on him, because he says, "you get us back double what you stole from us and we'll let them keep the money. You fail, and your father is left to die slowly in a public hospice with both his children underground. You have one year. Be good, and we might let you live at the end of it."

 

Barry stares at him. Snart smirks.

 

"You're smart kid," he says in response to Barry's unspoken what the hell, "you'll figure something out."

 

Barry may be smart, but he does not manage to figure something out.

 

Luckily, he has Caitlin! She may have been less down with shennanigans since her depression kicked in and, for some reason, imbued her with the desire to either hyper-mother everyone around her or lie in bed for days at a time eating nothing but cheezels, but she's still a damn good mastermind. When she's done staring at him with a scared, disappointed expression, she nods.

 

Barry knows that Caitlin can make a fraudulent version of pretty much any million dollar art piece in the world. This is knowledge he came into during college, when she paid the bills by selling knock-off versions of famous paintings and complaining about how she had to ‘make them worse’ or her boss would fire her for potentially implicating him in a fraud.

  
“I could sell some paintings for you,” she says. "I mean, I couldn't sell them. But I could make the copies, and Cisco could sell them."

 

Barry nods. Cisco has the incredible ability to sell pretty much anyone of anything. It's how Barry ended up with some of his more embarrassing college memories. He thinks it's probably a combination of Cisco's clear intelligence and ability to bullshit his way through any conversation while still looking like an expert, bundled up with the bounding enthusiasm he has that gets mistaken for sincerity far too often.

 Never trust Cisco with a wardrobe of your clothing, three batteries, and a bottle of lighter fluid. That's all Barry's saying. 

 

“I can make contact with interested buyers,” Barry says, “but if they don’t believe us, they’ll kill us.”

 

“We'll map out some contingency plans.” Caitlin says, “but first I need to ask - how much do you owe?”

 

Barry bites his lip.

 

“Uh … about 12 million.”

 

They stare at him.

 

“It was a limited opportunity!” Barry says, “They had 7.5 million in hard cash stashed in offshore accounts and Joe was still a couple million dollars short so I …”

 

“Stole _12 million??”_ Cisco says, awed. “From _Captain Cold_ and _Heatwave?”_

 

“6 million” Barry corrects him, “I left 1.5 for them to find and made them think I blew the rest on multiple high-stakes poker games. They want intrest.”

 

Cisco starts coughing his 'I'm not laughing at you, promise!' cough as soon as Barry mentions high stakes poker games. Which is pretty rich of him, because Cisco's never stolen millions from the two most feared and respected criminals in Central City, so if he thinks Barry's not cool enough to play high stakes poker ...

 

"How long do we have?" Caitlin asks, bringing him back to earth.

 

"Uh ... One year to pay back the initial sun, and another year to double it."

 

There is a lengthy pause. 

 

“We …” Caitlin says, “have two years. Two years from today.”

 

“Two years from three weeks ago.” Barry admits. “I tried to figure out a way to get it on my own but …”

 

“Okay.” Caitlin says, giving him a look that clearly says _you are the world’s worst friend,_

 

“We're going to need to find art works that have been stolen recently, but no one's tried to sell yet." Cisco says, thoughtfully.

 

"There were three paintings that were stolen last month from a private collection in Evergreen. They’re worth about 3 million each." Caitlin says, "I have no idea if anyone's trying to sell them yet. How long does it usually take to start selling things illegally? Do you wait for the heat to drop?"

 

"What?" Barry asks.

 

"You know, the heat," Caitlin says, "from the cops."

 

"I don't know," Cisco says, "Barry, you're the criminal element. Get us up to date on criminal know-how."

 

Barry shrugs helplessly.

 

"I just mapped out buildings for heists until I had enough info to rob the guys, I didn't really mingle." He admits.

 

"What about your contacts?" Caitlin asks, "how are you going to get us ... Out there?"

 

Barry shifts on his feet.

 

"I was going to ask Snart and Rory?"

 

They stare. Caitlin picks up a large folder from her desk, and slams it back down again. Barry winces.

 

"That," she says dangerously, "is the sound of my head hitting the wall when we all die."

 

  
Okay sure, it's not exactly protocol to be asking the criminals you owe money for help playing then back.

 

"You want black market contacts." Rory says flatly, "from us." 

 

"You realise our cut is 40% right?" Len says, and grins wickedly.

 

Barry stops himself from sighing.

 

"That seems fair."

 

Snart adds, " _Each."_

 

Barry gapes at him.

 

"Each??" he says indignantly, "I just want access to your black market contacts! And I'll be paying you back the first six million from these paintings!"

 

Len shrugs, unmoved.

 

"I do the negotiating, Mick comes along to body guard and tell me if anyone's acting in ways they shouldn't be."

 

Rory grins, slow and lazy.

  
"That's still at least 1200 you can put towards paying us back. Minus any expenses." Snart says thoughtfully. Barry goes pale. The man smiles, "Maybe we'll give you an extension. Since you're making us so much money."

  
Barry relaxes a little.

 

"What kind of extension?" He asks warily.

  
"Say ... 1.5 million in a year, 3 million in two years, etc until you've paid us 12 million." Snart says. He smiles, "and call me Len. You're going to be working with us for a long time."

 

Rory nods and adds, "you can call me Mick."

  
_So this is what it's like to be owned._ Barry thinks. He sighs. Not like he has much of a choice.

 

"Also, we need to hear your plan before we set you up. You can't pay us back if you died of had decisions." 

 

Barry stands up straighter. Their plan is awesome.

 

The two men stare at him, open mouthed, once he's finished explaining. Rory's shoulders start to shake, and pretty soon he's holding himself precariously up against the desk and howling with laughter.

 

"That." Snart declares, "is the worst goddamn plan I have ever heard."

 

"It's a great plan!" Barry says indignantly, "Caitlin is -"

 

"Don't matter if Caitlin is the best damn copycat in the whole damn universe." Rory - Mick - says, "if the people who really stole the paintings hunt her down and kill her."

 

Barry, who had opened his mouth to say that Caitlin *was* the best copycat in the whole damn universe, actually, abruptly shut it again and nodded.

 

"What you need to do," Len said thoughtfully, "is steal some paintings, paint copies, and whisper in a couple dense rich people ears that we've got somthing special for them."

 

"Are you serious?" Barry asks, mouth once again agape.

 

Len shrugs, "classic game." He says, "if they do find out about each other, they'll all just insist that they have the original and everyone else got duped."

 

"But ... Caitlin and Cisco ... We don't have a crew. Not for stealing."

 

"Well," Len grins, "it's a good thing we've already agreed on our 80% cut."

 

Barry groans. Loud.

 

Maybe it'll be okay, he thinks, maybe he won't get arrested and die.

 

He needs a drink.


	3. Chapter 3

“So,” Len says, “how familiar are you with the work of Kenna Friend?”

  
Caitlin looks indignant.

 

“Obviously.” She says, “I’m very familiar with her work. She's a pioneer in the neo futurist movement for visual artists, and she revolutionised the New York art scene.”

 

“Okay, that's enough artgasming,” Mick says, “point is, bunch of her works got bought by a private collector right here in Central and we are understandably going to relieve him of his purchases.”

 

Caitlin gives a little fangirl squeal and then claps her hand over her mouth.

 

“I love her work,” she admits, “back when they were in a public gallery I would go copy them all the time.”

  


Len nods, “practicing your line work?”

  


Caitlin nods enthusiastically. Barry shoots Mick a confused look, but he just smirks and shrugs a little. Barry has a moment where he wonders if he should be worried about getting slowly absorbed into their silent communication thing.

  


He knows they'd been noticing him before. They'd seemed to think he was smart, full of potential. They had seemed downright fond of him sometimes. He’d felt a little wistful about losing that fondness, back when he was planning on them killing him.

 

After he'd stolen from them their attention  had turned angry, of course. Mick’s gaze was harsh and mean,Len’s was sardonic and untrusting. It had ended surprisingly quickly. It was like they'd slipped right back into fond amusement, tinged with occasional respect, at his antics. Which was massively weird considering how his major antic so far has been stealing almost their entire stash.

 

He wonders what they would have used that money on. They don't seem to be big spenders. He wants to ask them about it - why they must be the richest men in Central from all the shit they get up to, and yet never seem to buy more than the essentials for themselves - but he's not sure they trust him. After the whole … abusing their trust .... thing.

 

Barry gets the blueprints to Thawne’s - the rich guy they're about to rob - giant building and he and Len are pouring over it together when they heard unholy yelling coming from the kitchen.

 

They look at each other.

 

“We  could ignore it?” Barry starts to say weakly, when a giant crash and shattering sound makes both of them jump up and run.

 

Caitlin and Mick are glaring at each other over shattered glass and sticky looking dark substance spreading all over the floor.

 

"You're never working with these two again after you've paid us back" he growls at Barry, apparently having decided that Barry has been good enough to live on. “Or anyone else we don't approve first. This girl doesn't even know how to make Veda bread!”

 

“It's _how my Maimeó taught me!”_ Caitlin screams, picking up a banana from a nearby fruit bowl and lobbing it straight at his chest.

 

“Well _mine_ taught me _properly!’_ Mick bellows back, leaping over the glass like a large gazelle and smushing the pulpy remains of the banana into her hair.

 

Caitlin's eyes widen as Barry backs away.

 

“I,” she says, softly and very clearly, “am going. To kill you.”

 

 _Mick_ almost looks scared, but he holds his ground. Len and Barry power-walk away from disaster in a very manly fashion. They hear a loud _thwack_ , followed by the sounds of Mick howling. Barry glances a little nervously at Len. He thinks Caitlin and Mick can handle each other, but he once knocked a guy unconscious for calling his partner stupid, and Caitlin threatened to _kill_ Mick. Len doesn't seem concerned though. There's a soft, happy look in his eyes and an amused curl to the corner of his mouth.

 

Barry tries not to stare because this is a damn good look on him. He doesn't know how to process that information.

 

"After I pay you back, I have to keep working for you?" Barry blurts out. He'd suddenly remembered what Mick had said, and it made his stomach clench. Len gives him a flatly unimpressed look.

  


"I get it, you own my ass." Barry says, a little despondently.

  


Len makes a little choked-off sound, but he recovers so quickly Barry thinks he must have imagined it.

  


“Do you want to know what we do with our money, Barry?” He asks.

  


Barry nods, surprised at the sudden change in topic.

 

“We keep a bunch for ourselves, obviously. We wanna be able to settle down, you know, maybe live on a goat farm.”

 

“A what?”

 

Len waves a hand dismissively.

 

“Or something like that, anyway. And Mick loves shiny things. But we love Central, so we funnel a bunch into public funding. Donating to hospitals and the like. Bribing the mayor to fix street lights instead of making more big corporate tax cut deals, try and balance out the other crooks, you know?”

  


Barry digests this.

  


“That's … pretty awesome.” He admits.

  


“Something you'd want to be involved in?” He asks. He _asks._ like Barry has a choice. And Barry realises that he _does_ have a choice, because this is Len asking instead of telling and he never acts like someone can say no to him, no repercussions, unless he actually means it.

  


“I'd have to think about it,” he says, “I guess I've got some time … it'll take me years to pay you back anyway.”

  


He laughs, a little awkwardly. Len shrugs.

  


“We like you, Barry.” he says quietly, “can't really fault you for trying to save your family. I did the same for mine.”

  


“Seriously?” Barry asks. Len nods.

  


“When we've done this job, you can consider us square. Then you can take your time deciding if you want to keep working with us. We'll keep a room for you up at the goat farm.”

  


Barry sits on his hands to stop himself from wrapping himself around Len like a grateful octopus. Then he decides _screw that_ and hugs him anyway. Len looks surprised and confused when he does it, but as Barry pulls away there's a tinge of pink around Lens ears and he's grinning kind of _dorkily._ Barry never thought he'd see _that._

 

“You nerds!” He proclaims delightedly, “everyone thinks you're the meanest criminals in Central - you've got _temperature themed nicknames_! - but really you're just concerned citizens, redistributing wealth and saving up to buy some goats!”

 

Len bites down on a laugh, eyes dancing. He fake-snarls and pounces at Barry, ruffling up his hair as Barry squeaks and tries to duck away.

 

“We _are_ the meanest crooks in Central!” He proclaims, “my partner just iced your friend with a banana!”

 

Barry doubles over with laughter. Len's laugh is big and warm, nothing like Barry had expected.

 

Mick walks out, arm slung around Caitlin's shoulder. Both of them are covered in water and mashed up food. Caitlin is flushed and grinning. Barry grins helplessly back at her. _Shenanigans!_

 

  
“Len,” Mick says with a dorky grin, “we made Veda bread!”

  


Iris isn't happy with Barry. She's standing at his apartment door, arms folded across her chest. Barry shifts from foot to foot, wondering what he's done wrong.

 

“Well?” Iris asks, lips pursed.

 

“What?” Barry asks. She glares

 

“You disappeared right after we got the money for Dad’s treatment. You should have been celebrating with us! Instead you didn't answer your phone for three days - we were _worried!_ \- and now we've barely seen you for a month!”

 

Barry casts around for an appropriate excuse that isn't ‘I've been planning a high profile robbery and fraud.’

 

“I thought you'd want some time with each other, you know … celebrating.” He finished lamely.

 

Iris huffs an annoyed sounds and hugs him tightly.

 

“You … are the densest person I've ever meant. _Obviously_ we wanted to talk to you, that's why we kept calling, you fudge-knuckle.”

 

Barry laughs and hugs her back. He feels something tight in his chest, and pushes it aside.

 

“You gotta come see Dad,” Iris says. “He's so mad at you. You can't just skip Sunday dinner _four weeks in a row.”_

"Can I bring friends?" Barry asks without thinking.  _  
_

 

"Cisco and Caitlin? Maybe not the next one, Dad and I want some family time with you. But after that, sure."

 

"Not them. Maybe." Barry says. Iris raises her eyebrows.

 

"You have other friends?" She asks.

 

Barry glares at her. She laughs.

 

"I'm sure Dad won't mind."

 

Barry imagines Len and Mick swapping deadpan puns over roast chicken and beer. He stares at the ground and tries to understand the tingle warmth spreading through his body. 

 

"I think he'll like them," he says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My obsession with the idea of Mick and Len on a goat farm comes from Hole in the Fence by nirekseki ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/10921887?view_full_work=true ), because I love it so much I now pretty much consider 'goat farm' to be the end-goal of any Mick/Len adventure. 
> 
> And then they commented on this????? I was very chuffed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len is the ultimate sugar daddy and Mick is a total princess just saying.

Barry is a little bit panicked. He tries to hide it with subtle deep breathing, but it doesnt seem to work because Len reaches over and gives his back a soothing rub. 

"Its going to be easy as hell," he says, "we've been casing for weeks. I promise, there's nothing to worry about."

Barry's brain has been overwhelmed by Len's hands on his back - the strange contrast between the roughness of his hands through Barry's shirt and the softness of his touch - so he nods blindly to whatever Len just said. Hopefully he didn't just promise Len his kidneys.

"My first job like this," Mick says from the drivers seat, "I threw up all over the upholstery. Nearly got myself killed."

"The job went bad?" Barry asks, eyes wide.

Mick snorts.

"Job went fine. The guy who's shoes I ruined wanted to have words, tho."

"Did you kill him?" Barry asks, thoroughly distracted from his nerves.

Mick tosses Len a sweet little smile.

"Nah," he says, "I married him."

Thawne's house is impossibly huge, and wierd as hell. 

"Dude," Barry says to no one in particular, "who needs a giant dead oak tree in their living room?"

"Who  _wants_ one?" Len confers.

"I don't know," Mick says thoughtfully, running his hand up the scared side of the tree, "I kinda like it."

 

"Babe, if you want an oak tree for our living room -"

"We don't have a living room."

Len huffs.

 

"I will get you a living room and an oak tree to put in it, okay?"

"Only if it's been struck by lightning," Mick says, "otherwise what's the point?"

"I see what you mean," Barry says, staring at the charred side of the oak, "but you'd need a pretty tall ceiling."

"We'll figure it out when we get home," Len says, "right now we have precisely two hours before the alarms reset or the neighbours get suspicious."

Barry and Mick reluctantly leave the tree and follow Len through the house.

"According to the magazine spread of his house, he keeps the paintings in the ball room."

"The fucking what now?" Mick asks, as Barry says,

"Is anyone else feeling a little Bling Ring?"

"No," Mick and Len respond in unison, which means they totally watched the movie.

They enter the ballroom, which is, indeed, a ballroom.

"I want one," Mick says.

"Okay, babe," Len says automatically.

"How will it fit in your farm?" Barry asks, as Len removed the first painting from the wall and carefully extracts it from the frame. 

"It's a farm, Barry," Len says, "there will be a lot of room."

"I pictured it as more of a cottage on a farm than a ... Large estate, on a farm," Barry admits. 

"You can have a small cottage on the grounds if you want," Mick says. "I refuse to live in anything smaller than this house."

Barry reels for a seconds.

"Me?" He asks, and kicks himself because of course they were joking.

Len just rolls his eyes and moves onto the next painting. 

"Obviously. If you want to."

"Have you not noticed that Len could literally do this whole thing by himself, and have you standing guard instead of Cisco?" Mick said, "I'm here in case heads need bustin, you're here because he just doesn't want to get bored."

"But you wouldn't get bored with Mick!" Barry protests.

"Yes I would." Len proclaims, starting on the third painting, "Mick and I get super bored just talking to each other. He doesn't even laugh at my puns."

Barry knows for a fact that this is a blatent lie, and gives Mick a  _can you believe this_ look of indignation. Mick just stares back at him, smirking.

"Huh." Len say, and they both turn to him.

"Oh." Barry says.

"Well." Says Mick.

"A hidden room? In this economy?" Len says, "you two keep watch."

 

He crawls into the space.

 

"And he calls me a hot-head," Mick grumbles.

 

Len crawls back out in about two seconds.

"Nope." He says, to Barry and Mick's enquiring glances. "Too illegal.  _Way_ too illegal. We are not getting involved in that shit."

He carefully places the frame back on the wall and grabs them each by the arm.

 

"Let's go," he says.

 

"Boss -" Mick starts, and Len looks at him. 

 

"Bad things," he says, "Mob shit. Politician shit. Mad scientist shit. Can we go?"

 

"If someone's in trouble back there ..." Barry starts. Len shakes his head.

 

"There wasn't, I promise. But we will be if we don't leave right now and come up with some damn good track-covering. Come on."

He hauls them both out to the van and they drive. 

 

"Do you think he'll realise that it's suspicious for us to have taken two paintings from the same collection but not the third and that we definetly saw his wierd crawl space?" Barry asks.

"He's stupid enough to leave a highly incriminating room and very expensive paintings in a house alone with a poorly designed security system -"

"- you think every security system is poorly designed."

 

"I think we're fine," Mick concludes. His voice is light, but his knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

 

Len leans over from the front seat and grabs Barry's face in both hands.

 

"You did great with those blueprints," he says, and kisses Barry smack on the lips.

 

Barry blinks.

 

"Is that a mafia thing?" He asks.

 

Len and Mick crack up.

 

“ _ No,  _ Barry,” Mick says at last, “it's a Len-n-me think you're the bee's knees and want you to live with us on a giant estate for the rest of our lives.”

 

Barry gapes.

 

“Or we could, you know, start with coffee,” Len interjects amusedly.

 

“That would be great!” Barry says, proud of how his voice only squeaks a little bit. 

  
  


Mick gives him a savage grin in the rear view mirror. Len just stares at the road and hummus contentedly. Barry fucks his head and grins at his shoes. He wonders what Joe and Iris will say to this. Probably it will involve some level of teasing. Fuck.

 

Caitlin is not pleased by the absence of the third painting.

“They were a  _ set!”  _ She wails, “they all go together!”

“We ran out of time,” Len says smoothly as Cisco pats her back.

“Sorry, Snow.” Mick adds, and seems to really mean it.

Caitlin sniffs.

“I'll manage,” she huffs, holding the paintings away from the rest of them possessively.

 

"I worry about her." Mick says

 

"Worry about yourself!" Caitlin calls over her shoulder. "I know where you live!"

 

"No you don't," Mick says as she leaves. He turns to Len, "she doesn't. Right?"

 

"I didn't tell her." Len says. His arm, formerly flung over Barry's shoulder, is now creeping it's its way down his back. "Did you?"

 

"Nope," Barry says hastily, "but it's Caitlin. In another life she would have been a spy. Or a mad scientist."

 

"She's already an art thief," Mick points out, suddenly very close, "those other things aren't too far removed. 

 

Len's teeth close over Barry's earlobe and Barry makes a faint, embarrassing whine.

 

"Let's stop talking about Caitlin," he suggests. 

 

Len laughs

 

 

"Let's." He agrees, and Mick's eyes dance.

 

Cisco walks in on them in the afterglow, sprawled naked over each other on the couch with their clothes strewn over the floor.

 

"Gross!" He yells, slamming the door behind him in his escape, "we use that couch!" 

 

"Worth it." Barry mumbles, and goes back to sleep to the faint laughing sound in his ear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Conclusion

Barry groans and fumbles for his phone. It's been ringing on and off for the past  _hour,_ dammit, and all he wants to do is sleep off his raging hangover in the warm embrace of his two new boyfriends. He moves to snuggle deeper into Len's side, then realises suddenly that Len isn't there. He sits up, groggily reaching for the water bottle he keeps on his nightstand, before remembering that this isn't his bed.

"Time to get up, sunshines," Len says ruthlessly, appearing in front of Barry with a merciful glass of water. Barry guzzles it down to get rid of the fuzzy taste in his mouth, trying to decide if he loves or hates Len right now. He settles on love, but thinks he might keep that to himself for now. Early days, and all. 

 

"Whatcha got that smile for?" Mick asks, grumbling into conciousness. Barry shrugs, and ducks his head.

Len hands him a glass of water too and drops a packet of Advil onto the bed.

 

"Sunday dinner today," he says, "I'd've told you two not to drink so much if I'd known you were gonna spend the whole day in bed."

 

Barry scowls. He has a distinct memory of Len taking shots of his bare stomach, but Len doesn't appeappear any worse for wear. Bastard.

 

"We were celebrating," Mick slurs, pushing himself out of bed and stumbling to the dresser.

 

The last painting had sold, and there was no sign of any shady men appearing out of the blue, so they seemed to be free and in the clear. 

 

Barry squints and tries to sort out the memories of last night. He doesn't think Caitlin would get into a drinking match with Mick ... He rubs his head and scrolls through his phone. He has seven missed calls from Iris, along with a bunch of hostile messages promising sudden death to any West's that miss Sunday Dinner, which officially starts  at 5pm -  _and you're an Allen-West as far as we're concerned so you'd better fucking be here I don't care how hungover you are, dad and i want to meet your boyfriends -_ plus a new snap story depicting Caitlin's triumphant victory over Mick and a couple of angry hangover messages from her and Cisco. The usual 'i hate you did you let me do shots' type. He chuckles and puts the phone down.

 

They barely make it in time for pre-dinner boardgames. Iris growls at Barry when she opens the door.

 

"Why the hell did you go out last night?" She asks, "you know you always sleep all day when you're hungover."

 

"He got Mick doing the same," Len adds unhelpfully, "He's such a sucker for cuddles. I had to drag them both out by the teeth."

 

Mick and Barry make indignant noises, but Iris just laughs and nods at Len approvingly, letting them in.

 

"How did you even kn- oh, Caitlin's snap story," Barry says. Iris nods.

 

"That, and she booty-called me at three in the morning. I could hear you in the background screaming about Mick's abs."

 

"I wasn't  _screaming,"_ Barry protests. Iris winces.

 

"Barry, from the things you were saying I would have much preferred you hadn't been. I do not need to hear about your sex life. Ever."

 

"Good," Barry says, "Can we never mention it again?"

 

Iris grins.

 

"Ohh no," she says wickedly, "I suffer, you suffer. This will not be let to rest."

 

Barry stiffles a grown as Joe comes into the hallway to greet him. He gives Barry a big hug and then turns to greet Len and Mick.

 

"Oh!" He says, when he sees Len, "Barry, you didn't tell me one of your boyfriend's was an ex-con!"

 

"Um." Barry says.

 

"Good to see you again, Officer West." Len says politely.

 

"Out of Juvie and all grown up, I see." Joe says, fixing him with a look, "what are you up to these days?"

 

"Not much," Len says, "I got my BA and Mick and I run a small business together"

 

"Hm," Says Joe.

 

"Yahtzee?" Says Iris.

 

Mick beats them all at Yahtzee and Joe swears revenge by challenging him to a game of backgammon and by the time Len and Iris crushed them all at charades Joe has overcome his misgivings and is focusing all his energy on making Barry want to sink into the floor.

 

"Aww," Len says over a picture of Baby Barry laughing on the floor, pointing to a half eaten apple.

 

"He just loved to throw things on the floor," Joe reminisces. Iris giggles and Barry tries to convey through a single stare just how little help she's getting from him when her next significant other comes over. She rolls her eyes, because it's not like Barry could do anything to stop Joe on the quest of embarrassing his children.

 

"I'm gonna check on the roast," Barry says. Mick, Len and Joe all look up at him with identical grins, and he flees. 

 

There's a missed call from an unknown number on his cell. He ignores it - probably spam - and turns his attention to the glorious feast almost cooked to perfection in the oven. 

 

"A few more minutes," he mutters to himself.

 

"Good," Joe says.

 

Barry yelps in surprise and Joe chuckles.

 

"How are you going?" Joe asks him, pouring himself a glass of water, "we didn't hear from you for a while."

 

"Yeah," Barry shuffles his feet nervously, "I'm sorry, I just ..."

 

He trails off.

 

"We're always here when you need us," Joe says softly.

 

"I know," Barry says, swallowing around the lump in his throat, "me too."

 

Joe pats his back and heads back to the living room for another ill-fated game of Yahtzee. Barry's phone rings again. He answers without thinking.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Hello, is this Mr Allen speaking?" Said a cool, unfamiliar voice.

 

"Uhh ... Yes this is - I mean, that's me."

 

"Excellent," the voice says, "I'll be in contact shortly."

 

The voice hangs up and Barry stares numbly at his phone. Iris calls him from the living room to get his ass back in there so she can beat it. The oven timer goes off.

 

"Dinners ready!" Barry calls. He turns his phone off.


End file.
